


Civil Hands Unclean

by stelladora



Category: BioShock
Genre: Atlas isn't Fontaine, Jack is 19, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3625617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelladora/pseuds/stelladora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Ryan has spent his whole life in Rapture, but has doubts about his father's politics. Hearing Atlas speak one day, Jack decides to join him, but lies about who he is in order to gain Atlas' trust.<br/>(AU: Jack is 19, and Atlas isn't Fontaine.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Civil Hands Unclean

**Author's Note:**

> "From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
> Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."  
> -Romeo and Juliet

**November 1958**

“That bastard don’t care about us, about the common folk!” the man standing on the overturned crate shouted at the crowd. “He ropes us all into comin’ into this ‘free city’ o’ his, and then tells us we can’t leave! Rapture isn’t _freedom_! Ryan doesn’t care whether folks like us live or die, and if he isn’t gonna help us, we’ve got to band together and help each other! There’s a revolution coming, friends, and if you don’t stand with us, you stand with _Ryan!_ ”

There were shouts of agreement from people in the crowd. Jack stood at the gates of Arcadia, listening to the speech. Every doubt in his mind, every thought he’d pushed out of his head…this man had the answer. For months, maybe even years, Jack had doubted his father’s politics. He’d kept quiet, played the part of a good little boy, preparing to take over Ryan Industries. But listening to this man, Jack understood how impossible it would be for him to continue a legacy built by the tyrant Andrew Ryan. Jack joined the throng of people who approached the man after his speech. Their voices created a cacophony, and their questions were answered by the man and the group with him. They passed out flyers and spoke with people; Jack waited until the crowd thinned before approaching the man.

“Are you Atlas?” Jack asked.

“Sure am. What’s your name?” Up close, Jack was struck by just how charismatic the man was. _A useful trait in someone trying to incite a revolution_ , Jack thought.

“Jack Wynand,” he said, the false name coming easily to mind. “I want to join you.”

* * *

 

It had been about two weeks since Jack began working with Atlas and the others. They had their headquarters in the fourth floor of Hestia Chambers, and Jack spent most of his time there, when he wasn’t working with the maintenance crew. His father had decided that the best way for Jack to learn about Ryan Industries was to get hands-on experience. Jack didn’t mind the work; he spent his days with Bill McDonagh, who taught him all about how Rapture ran. It also meant Jack got to visit every part of the city, and he had access to the maintenance tunnels, which he had, on several occasions, explored after hours.

Jack didn’t tell anyone at the Headquarters much about himself; he figured that it would be easier to keep his real identity a secret. Luckily, he only had contact with a few people; folks came and went as it suited their schedule, as most of them had other jobs, like Jack did. They would probably throw him out if they knew who he really was. He showed up every day in his work clothes, appearing to all observers as any ordinary kid who’d gotten a job doing manual labor. He helped organize rallies like the one he’d witnessed in Arcadia, and he worked with the large printing presses, making posters and pamphlets. For once, Jack felt like he was part of something that mattered. These people who he worked with were good folks, and his father had been unjust in fooling them into thinking Rapture would be paradise.

 

“You’re quieter than usual, Jack,” Anna observed one evening. “Why don’t you tell us about yourself?” There were five of them gathered in the main room of the apartment, busy with various tasks. Anna was often there in the evenings, like Jack was, and he’d grown to enjoy her company. She was always optimistic about things, and she had an enormous network of connections.

“I’m sure I’m not that interesting,” Jack said modestly.

“Well neither’s Henry, that doesn’t stop him from talking,” Anna pointed out with a mischievous smile.

“Oi, that’s not very nice, is it?” Henry interjected. He smiled nevertheless, a look of adoration on his face that didn’t escape Jack’s notice.

Anna was always one for talking and socializing, and Jack had hoped to stay off her radar for at least a little while longer. He didn’t want to slip up. “Come on, Jack. Tell us about your girlfriend,” she suggested with feigned nonchalance.

“My—what?” Jack asked, taken aback.

“Oh, _please_. A guy your age, with your looks? Isn’t that who keeps you away all afternoon?” she asked.

Jack blushed, but before he could reply, Atlas cut in. “ _Work_ keeps the kid away. Unlike some of you, _he’s_ actually industrious,” he said. The others protested and laughed. “Speaking of,” Atlas continued, “Carter, you should take Jack with you tomorrow.” Jack, confused, looked over to Isaiah Carter, one of the older members of the group and the one understood to be second-in-command.

“You sure about that, boss?” Carter asked. “You know I don’t like people getting in the way of things.”

“What is it I’m supposed to be doing?” Jack asked, not wishing to be completely in the dark about these plans that others were making for him.

“A raid,” Carter explained tersely. “Come with me.” The man stood and moved to another room. Jack was familiar with the group’s practice of keeping more dangerous operations on a need-to-know basis; he’d heard whispers of other activities, and been informed of results, but had never been included in plans before. He joined Carter in the other room, shutting the door behind himself. “I heard tell of a weapons stash in a shop nearby. You, me, and Alexander are going to go retrieve them. We’re meeting here at six tomorrow evening.” Carter was a no-nonsense type of man, and while Jack admired him, he also was intimidated by him. “As it’s your first time out with us,” Carter went on, “you’re gonna do exactly as your told and _only_ as your told. You got that?”

“Yes,” Jack said automatically. With so few people, he figured this couldn’t be a very big job. It was almost certainly a test from Atlas to make sure Jack wasn’t going to bolt at the first sign of real fighting.

“Good. You cooperate, and maybe you won’t get your pretty face shot off. You ever handle a gun before?” Carter asked.

“No,” Jack admitted.

“As I thought,” Carter muttered. He took his pistol from his waistband and showed it to Jack, giving him a quick rundown of how it worked. Jack paid good attention, knowing he would have to remember all this tomorrow. “We haven’t got any kind of shooting range—good ol’ Atlas doesn’t really appreciate people firing guns inside—but I doubt you’re gonna have to actually shoot anyone tomorrow. Le Marquis d’Epoque doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being dangerous.”

“That’s where we’re going?” Jack asked, recognizing the name. That was the cigar shop his father bought from. Jack had been there a few times to pick up orders fro him. He controlled himself, not wanting to betray his shock either through expression or voice.

“Yeah. You heard of it?” Carter asked. Jack nodded. “Good. It’s always better when you know the inside of a place. And be sure to play it cool when we get there, yeah?” the man added roughly. Jack just nodded again, and Carter led the way back to the other room. “And I don’t have to tell you to keep your trap shut about this, do I?” he muttered to Jack.

“No,” Jack said, shaking his head. The two returned to their respective seats. Anna and Henry knew enough not to ask any questions, but Jack could feel Atlas’ eyes on him. He sat up straight, doing his best to prove to Atlas that he could handle this, and that he would be an asset to the group instead of a liability.

Late that night, Jack returned home. He’d had his own apartment for a little over a year; his father had said that he didn’t want Jack to grow accustomed to living in the lap of luxury, and Jack had been only too happy to oblige. (However, he noticed, Ryan was spending money like there was no tomorrow.) Jack lived comfortably in the apartment complex at Athena’s Glory; it wasn’t far from the Headquarters, which was convenient since he often ended up walking home late at night. Jack showered and prepared for bed; he had little time for anything else between his job on the maintenance crew and his work with Atlas. He fell asleep thinking about the next day’s raid. _I don’t want to let him down_ , Jack thought.

* * *

 

The next day, Jack felt his stomach fluttering for the duration of his work shift. He was relieved when he finally got to leave for the day and head to Hestia Chambers. It was a little before six, and Martin Alexander, the third member of their party, had yet to arrive.

“Come over here and give me a hand, would ya, boyo?” Atlas called from one of the printing presses. Jack gladly went to the man’s side and helped Atlas maneuver the parts of the machine. “How are you feeling?” Atlas asked him, his voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear them.

“Fine. A little nervous, to be perfectly honest,” Jack admitted. He smiled at Atlas, struck for the hundredth time by the man’s blue eyes. He spent most of his time looking out the windows at the blue of the ocean, but Atlas’ eyes were different. They were lighter, like how Jack remembered the sky. Atlas was just as charismatic and charming as Jack had believed him to be the first time they’d met.

The older man laughed and shot a smile at Jack. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t let you do this if I didn’t trust you. You’ve done good work here these past few weeks,” Atlas assured him.

The praise made Jack smile. “Thank you,” he said earnestly.

At that moment, Alexander entered, and Carter stood up. “Wynand. We’re leaving.”

Jack gave Atlas one last smile before he left the Headquarters. Alexander and Carter talked to each other while the three walked to the Bathysphere station, largely ignoring Jack. They arrived amid the neon signs of Fort Frolic twenty minutes later, and Carter led them to a deserted corner where they could talk unobserved.

“Here,” Carter said, handing over a pistol to Jack. “Don’t draw attention to yourself. We go in, we _convince_ the guy behind the counter to let us into the back room, we get what we came for, and we book it outta there. Clear?” he asked, looking between Jack and Alexander.

“Got it, chief,” Alexander said. Jack just nodded.

They made their way to the shop. Jack feigned nonchalance when they entered, choosing a place along one wall to pause and pretend to look at a box of cigars. There was only one person in the small shop, much to Jack’s relief. After a few moments, when the customer had left, Carter approached the counter.

“You’ve got something I’m interested in,” Carter said.

“Oh? What can I help you with?” the man asked.

“Open up that back room there,” Carter instructed.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Carter reached into his coat pocket to reveal his pistol. Taking his cue from Alexander, Jack kept a close eye on the clerk, watching for any signs he would fight back.

“Whoa there, listen fella, I don’t have any money in the back. If that’s what you’re after—”

“You know damn well it isn’t,” Alexander cut in, stepping up to the counter.

“Alright, alright,” the man said, raising his hands in surrender.

Carter went to the door, and Alexander dragged the man out from behind the counter. “Watch him,” Alexander instructed Jack. The two men pulled heavy sacks out from under their coats and began removing the ammunition and guns from the back room. The clerk stood against the wall, eyes flitting warily between Jack and the others. Jack saw him reach into the pocket of his coat and wrap his hand around the grip of a handgun.

“Carter!” Jack yelled. His gut reaction took over: Jack lunged at the man and shoved him backward, pushing his head through the glass display case and striking it on a shelf within. Had Jack not kept a hold on the man’s tie, he would have sunk to his knees, unconscious.

“That’s one way to do it,” Carter muttered, taking the clerk’s gun from where it had fallen on the floor. “Come on. We’ve got what we need.”

As the three left the shop, they could hear two security officers rushing in their direction. “Sounded like glass shattering—probably some vandal kids,” one of the distant voices said.

“Fuck,” Alexander muttered under his breath. They would certainly look suspicious leaving a shop with two large burlap sacks.

“Follow me,” Jack said suddenly, dashing off in the direction opposite the Bathysphere.

He could hear the other two men’s reluctance, but they followed him nevertheless, since there wasn’t much choice. “Kid, where the hell are you going?” Alexander asked.

“It’s this way, right here,” Jack said, looking around. He spotted what he was looking for: a door leading to a service tunnel. He punched in the service code; each district had their own, and Jack had spent three weeks committing them to memory. He’d never imagined he’d need it in a case like this, however. The door opened, and he ushered the other two men inside. “This will take us to the Metro,” he informed them.

Alexander laughed. “Well, well. The kid’s useful after all,” he said, turning to Carter.

Carter just nodded. “Good work. Lead the way.”

The three of them made their way down the corridor in nervous silence, eventually reaching the Bathysphere. They quickly boarded and disembarked, not waiting around for Security to find them. To Jack’s relief—and, he had to admit, surprise—they made it back to Headquarters unseen by any police.

“We’re back,” Carter called out as the three of them stepped into the apartment.

Those present, including Atlas, looked up at them. “How did things go?” Atlas asked.

“Not too bad,” Carter said gruffly, as if he were reluctant to report their success.

“The shopkeeper gave us a little trouble,” Alexander explained, “but Jack here shoved his head through a display case. Then when the cops came running, he took us through a maintenance tunnel.”

Atlas arched an eyebrow at that, looking at Jack. The latter stood near the door, nervous to hear the verdict of the test Atlas had thrown him into. “Carter, come with me, we’ll take stock of all this,” Atlas said, relieving Alexander of one of the sacks. The two men left the main room, and Jack relaxed a bit.

“Can I help you with any of this?” Jack asked Anna, looking over her shoulder at the papers spread out over one of the desks.

“Sure thing!” she said brightly. “Henry isn’t here tonight, so _one_ , it’s been frightfully dull, and _two,_ there’s mountains of these things to copy out.”

“You mean Atlas isn’t good company?” Jack asked with a smirk. He wanted to know more about the man, apart from where he stood on politics, and the only person who gossiped more than Anna was Henry, who wasn’t present at the moment.

Anna laughed as Jack pulled up a chair. “He’s sure nice and all, but he’s the _boss_ , ain’t he? I’m afraid he’d get mad at me for wasting time or something.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type to be that strict,” Jack pointed out.

“He’s not, I just…I want to impress him, y’know?” Anna said. Jack knew the feeling all too well. “Now then. I know you can’t tell me too many details, but what did you think of your first time out? Sounds like it was exciting.”

“It was.” Jack thought a minute, reflecting on all that had happened. “For some reason, though, I never expected raids to be so much like…well, like a burglary,” he admitted.

Anna chuckled. “You’re still young. You’ve still got all that kiddie-propaganda in your head. ‘Parasites’ is just what Ryan calls anyone who opposes his regime, you know,” she pointed out. “Besides, what do you think a liquor store was doing with that many guns? Nothing good, I can promise you that. I’d rather Atlas have them.”

Jack had to admit she had a point. He looked up as Carter and Atlas returned, the two of them smiling. Apparently the bosses were satisfied with how the raid had gone, and that knowledge set Jack at ease.

* * *

 

Another week passed in much the same way as the others. He spent his days either tending to Rapture’s mechanical troubles or sitting in on meetings with his father, a thing which increasingly annoyed him. After spending so much time among Atlas and that group, it took much more restraint to stay quiet and composed. He, however, filed pertinent information away in case it came in handy. Perhaps one day he’d give Atlas some important tip, and the man would see that having Ryan’s son on his side was an asset instead of a liability.

Jack’s evenings were spent in Hestia Chambers doing whatever work there was to be done. Some nights he stayed until midnight, ignoring the fact that he usually had to be up early. Atlas was almost always at Headquarters, so it seemed worth it to stay.

It was the night before a rally, and there had been more than the usual number of people at the apartment, getting things ready. Jack stood at a press, stamping out the last few posters that they were planning to hang up in Arcadia. The night was getting on, so most people had gone home, preparing to return the next morning. Henry sat at a desk, attempting to fill out paperwork but instead nodding off. Atlas looked up from his work at an adjacent desk and smiled before thumping Henry on the back, startling the man out of sleep.

“Sorry boss, I’ll get all this done, I just shut my eyes for a second—”

“Go home, Henry. I’ll take care of this,” Atlas said. Henry made noises of protest, but Atlas silenced him with a look. In the end, the exhausted man got his coat and left, saying a polite goodbye to Atlas and Jack.

“I can do that while these posters are drying,” Jack offered, gesturing to Henry’s abandoned paperwork.

“Thanks, boyo,” Atlas said as Jack sat down. “You sure you should be out this late? Won’t your parents get worried?” he asked with a smirk.

“Haven’t got any parents,” Jack said, sticking with the simplest lie. “I live on my own.”

Atlas’ face fell. “Ah. Sorry. I’ve really put my foot in my mouth,” he said with an embarrassed chuckle.

“It’s alright,” Jack quickly reassured him. “They…weren’t the best of people. I prefer being on my own.” That was nearly the truth, at least in his father’s case. Living with him had been all stuffy suits and political ideologies; Jack hadn’t been allowed much of a childhood. “Do you…have any family?” Jack asked cautiously. He wanted to continue the conversation with Atlas, but he wasn’t sure what to talk about, and didn’t want to be impertinent.

“Nope. Came down here on my own,” Atlas reported. “I wanted to get myself a good job, get established before startin’ a family. Then I started gettin’ fed up with Ryan and his lot, and before I knew it, this was taking up all my time,” he said, gesturing around them. He smiled a little, leaning back in his chair. “I never imagined this was what I’d be doing with my life. Planning a rebellion at the bottom of the ocean.”

Jack chuckled along with him. “To be fair, I don’t think that’s a very popular career trajectory,” he pointed out. “What did you do topside? Were you born in Ireland?”

“Very astute,” Atlas said sarcastically. “You should work for Ryan’s spies.” The two laughed at that. “Yeah, my family came to America from Dublin when I was ten. I grew up in New York, worked a bunch of different jobs… Eventually heard about Rapture. I worked in the Fisheries for six years.”

Jack didn’t press Atlas to fill in the gaps he’d left in the story; if someone had left their life on the surface to live at the bottom of the ocean, there had probably been a damn good reason to leave. He just nodded. “My parents brought me here when I was five,” he said. _It’s always easier to wrap a lie in the truth, isn’t it?_ Jack thought. It would looks suspicious if he said absolutely nothing about himself.

“Christ, so you’ve lived here nearly your whole life,” Atlas said, raising an eyebrow. “My condolences.”

“Sometimes I think I have it easier,” Jack pointed out. “I don’t have as many memories of what I’m missing. Just…buildings, cars, and the inside of our old apartment.”

Atlas nodded. “Suppose you’re right. You ever think about going back topside?”

“How? No one’s allowed to return,” Jack reminded Atlas. That was Ryan’s strictest rule: once someone enters Rapture, they do not return to the surface. He didn’t want ‘yuppie tourists’ or ‘parasites’ to infiltrate his city.

“Ryan says that, but I’m sure we could find a way,” Atlas said, a glint in his eye that made Jack think Atlas had already begun working on that plan.

“…I’m not sure,” Jack confessed. “Rapture is my home. It’s probably different for you, having grown up on the surface, but…there are parts of this city that I believe really are great.”

The smile that came over Atlas’ face made Jack’s stomach flip. Atlas looked at him tenderly, with a measure of admiration. “Ya know, you really have done excellent work these past few weeks,” the older man said. “Carter told me about what happened durin’ that raid—you really saved their asses with that quick thinkin’ o’ yours.”

Jack looked away as he stood up, nearly blushing as he collected the papers into a stack. “Yeah, well, if it hadn’t been for me breaking that glass—”

“The shopkeeper would have shot both o’ them in the back,” Atlas interrupted, standing up next to Jack, drawing the boy’s attention. “I’m proud of you, boyo. Just take the compliment, will ya?” he said with a smirk.

Jack stared for a second, processing the man’s words. It meant the world to him, hearing Atlas—the man he looked up to and admired most in Rapture—say that to him. Jack again acted on his first impulse and wrapped his arms around Atlas’ shoulders, hugging him. He could tell that Atlas was somewhat surprised, but he returned the embrace after a second.

“You’re going to be at the rally tomorrow, aren’t you?” Atlas asked, pulling away after the appropriate amount of time.

Flustered, Jack cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course.” He’d already told Bill McDonagh that morning that he’d be taking a personal day.

“It’s late. Do you want to sleep here?” Atlas offered. “There’s a couple of beds in the back room that don’t normally get used, other than mine. I just don’t want you walkin’ back on your own.” Atlas had reason to believe the streets were dangerous, and Jack believed him.

“Yeah, okay then,” Jack agreed. “I… I didn’t realize you lived here,” he said, feeling stupid. Atlas had never mentioned a home, and now Jack knew that the man didn’t have family.

“It’s easier than travelling from somewhere. And it means I’d be here if anyone ever breaks in,” the man pointed out.

“I guess that’s true,” Jack said. _Seems like an awfully lonely life,_ he thought as Atlas led him to one of the back rooms. Inside were four beds, set up in rows like a dormitory, and a closet in the far wall. Apparently when they’d first established the Headquarters, they’d decided to move all the beds into one room. The place hardly resembled a real living space; everyone was more concerned with overthrowing Ryan than interior design.

“You get some sleep. I’ll be out there a while yet,” Atlas said.

“Are you sure? I’m happy to help, really,” Jack protested, wanting to be useful.

Atlas just smiled. “I’ve got it handled. Besides, they say kids need more sleep than adults,” he pointed out teasingly.

“I guess you’re right about that, old man,” Jack countered.

Atlas’s laughter reverberated in the small room, and he thumped Jack on the back. “I’ll see you in the morning, Jacky boy,” he said as he left the room.

Jack smiled to himself as he undressed, pulling off his sweater and shoes. He liked to imagine it was more than just Atlas’ extroverted personality that caused the two of them to get on so well. He hoped there was more to their burgeoning friendship than mere workplace proximity. These thoughts carried Jack to sleep.

He turned over in his sleep and, hearing the unfamiliar sound of the bedframe underneath him squeaking, Jack awoke. It took a moment for him to register where he was. Looking at his watch, he could see he’d been asleep for nearly two hours. Jack scanned the room, but saw the rest of the beds empty. _What the hell is keeping him?_ Jack wondered, seeing light seeping in through the crack at the bottom of the door. Curiosity got the best of him, and he left his bed and went out into the main room.

Atlas was seated on the only sofa in the place, a book open on his knees. He looked up and smiled as Jack approached, his bare feet feeling cold against the floorboards. “Trouble sleeping?” Atlas asked him.

Jack joined him on the sofa, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “I was just wondering where you were,” he admitted.

“Our conversation earlier made me feel nostalgic, is all,” Atlas said, gesturing to the book on his lap. It was a photo album, Jack realized. “This is my family at our house in Ireland,” the older man said, pointing to a shot of four people standing on the porch of a house. Atlas was a child in the photo, but he’d grown up to look a lot like his father. A girl who must have been his younger sister stood next to him, holding his hand. Jack decided not to ask what had happened to her.

Atlas flipped through the album, and Jack looked at all the photos with him silently. One picture in particular caught his attention. It was Atlas as a young man, arm-in-arm with another man his age. Jack had never seen him look that happy. “Who is that?” Jack asked, pointing to the picture. “You two look happy.”

“His name was Charlie,” Atlas said. “We were the best of friends, he and I.” He smiled sadly, and Jack found himself wishing he hadn’t asked. It pained him to see Atlas mourning his past.

Jack put his hand over Atlas’ gently, pulling the other man out of his reverie. “You need to get some sleep. You’ve got a rally to lead in a few hours.”

Atlas nodded, shutting the album. The two of them stood, and Atlas replaced the book on the shelf before turning back to Jack and taking his hand again. They looked at each other, and Jack briefly considered leaning in and kissing the other man. _That would be going too far_ , he reminded himself. _It would just make everything awkward, since I’m sleeping here_. Deciding against it, Jack just smiled and led the way back to the bedroom.

 

Atlas woke him the next morning, gently shaking his shoulder. “We’ll have company soon. Coffee?”

It took Jack a second to process what was being said to him; he sat up and swung his legs out of bed, groggily taking the mug from Atlas. The other members of the group would soon be joining them, so Jack got washed and dressed quickly and joined Atlas in the main room.

An older woman he hadn’t met was already at Headquarters; she had probably volunteered to help with last-minute preparations for the rally. Jack introduced himself and found out her name was Brenda.

“Sleep well? I was just saying that I’m going to meet up with Carter. We’ve got some things to discuss,” Atlas filled Jack in. He glanced at the young man and chuckled, reaching up to smooth Jack’s hair. “I’ll meet up with you all at Arcadia, alright?”

Jack smiled, part of him enjoying the attention Atlas paid him. “Right. See you then.” At that moment, Anna and Henry entered, engrossed in their own conversation. Atlas nodded in greeting to them before leaving the apartment.

When the door closed, Brenda turned to him. “Isn’t he a little old for you?” she asked Jack teasingly.

He stared blankly at her before realizing what she was talking about. “Me and Atlas? We’re not a, uh—I mean—”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I just assumed, given what he said about you sleeping here. And the way you two were looking at each other—”

“What, Jack and Atlas?” Anna jumped in, turning to Jack. “He’s always looked at you like that. Has one of you finally mad a move?”

Jack stammered for a second, his cheeks turning bright red. _Does everyone think Atlas and I are a couple?_ “He just let me sleep here is all, I don’t think he thinks of me that way,” Jack said quickly.

“I think you two would be a good couple. Do you want me to talk to him for you?” Anna suggested mischievously.

Henry put his arm around her waist, drawing away her attention. “Quit it, you’re embarrassing him,” he said with a laugh. “We’ve got work to do.”

* * *

 

There were ten members of their group in all at the protest. Arcadia was an ideal location, as it was a public space frequented by people of all classes. They set up near the gates, some of them standing on benches in order to be seen in the crowd. Atlas began speaking while some others went to put up posters throughout the park. Jack was among the ones who stayed behind to talk to people, spreading their message with pamphlets and conversation. It was exciting, especially considering this was how Jack had first joined the group. It had a special significance for him.

Jack listened to Atlas’ words, thinking about what Anna had said earlier. There was no denying that he harbored an affection for Atlas, something more than just being pulled in by the man’s charisma. _How will I tell him who I really am?_ Jack wondered. _I’ve been lying to him for so long, what will he think?_

“What is this? What the hell is going on here?” A voice cut through the crowd, arresting the protesters’ attention.

“Here’s the man now! We’re spreading word of your tyranny, Ryan! You can’t treat people like this! We won’t take this lying down!” Atlas shouted. Some more radical members of the crowd voiced their agreement, while more hurried away, wanting to avoid accusations of treason.

Andrew Ryan stood a few feet from Atlas, looking furious. The woman on his arm, Diane, looked likewise scandalized. “This is outrageous,” Ryan fumed. “I could have you all arrested!”

“Right, just stow us away in Persephone with all the others who dared to speak the truth,” Carter shouted.

The crowd grew more incensed as others stopped to watch, and Jack could feel trouble brewing but stood rooted to the spot. His father was focused on arguing with Atlas and Carter, but Diane, who Jack had met on numerous occasions, spotted him among the crowd. She put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, pointing out his son.

Andrew Ryan’s rage grew, and he turned all his fury onto his son. “Are you with these hooligans? My own son, living among parasites? I had hoped to raise you better than this,” he roared. Jack’s stomach sank as he heard those around him gasp in shock. He looked to Atlas, but regretted it when he saw the look on the man’s face. “Answer me, damn it!” Ryan shouted. Instead of giving Jack a chance to speak, however, his father’s palm collided with his face.

The angry voices from the crowd became shouts. As if they’d been waiting for a signal, fighting broke out between those on Ryan’s side and those on Atlas’. Before he could react, Jack felt strong arms holding him back. He turned and saw Alexander glaring down at him. “You’re coming with me, _Mr. Ryan_.”

Jack struggled, trying to release himself from Alexander’s grip. “Listen, you don’t understand, I can explain, just listen—” All his protests were to no avail. Alexander held him tight and dragged him off, followed by others who retreated from the scene as the fighting escalated. Jack heard gunshots, and began straining against Alexander’s arms in earnest. He felt a sharp pain at the back of his head, then everything went black.

 

Jack awoke in the Hestia Chambers apartment with a gag in his mouth and his hands tied to a pipe on the radiator. He looked around, panicking.

“Well, well. The Prince of Rapture is awake,” a voice said. Jack didn’t recognize the speaker and assumed she was a member of the group he hadn’t met yet. She certainly knew who he was, though.

“Keep him quiet. When the others get here we’ll talk about what to do with him,” came Carter’s voice. Jack stayed still and didn’t make noise, thinking it was better to follow directions for now. The few people he’d made friends with weren’t present, and he’d heard rumors of what Carter could be like when angry.

Minutes later, some others returned, creating a bustle in the apartment. Atlas and another man were carrying someone who seemed to be in very bad shape. They lay the man on the sofa, and Jack saw that it was Henry. Blood covered his shirt. There was a whirlwind of activity: some tended to the bullet in Henry’s stomach, and some restrained Anna, who was panicking and nearly on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Get her out of here!” Brenda yelled. Carter pulled her out onto the landing, shutting the door behind them, diminishing the noise. Jack looked on, helpless, as Henry lost more blood. Brenda held a towel to the man’s stomach, reassuring him that everything was okay. The look she gave Atlas said something completely different, however. Within minutes, Henry lay dead in a pool of his own blood.

Everyone was quiet for a while. The man who had carried Henry inside was still holding the dead man’s jacket. He placed it reverentially over the corpse when a small black box fell out of the pocket. He opened it and sighed, holding it up so the others could see the contents: an engagement ring. “I’ll give this to Anna. I’m sure he’d want her to have it,” the man said. He went out onto the landing to break the news to her.

He, Carter, and Anna returned a few minutes later, after all the blood had been cleaned up. Her eyes were red with tears, and she was unnaturally quiet, as if in shock. Everyone was preoccupied for a while longer, and Jack kept quiet. It wasn’t until the body had been carried away that Alexander brought up the issue of him.

“Boss. There’s still the kid to deal with,” he reminded Atlas.

Atlas turned wearily to Jack. “Untie him. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” Carter obeyed, roughly removing the rope from Jack’s wrists and the gag from his mouth. He then hoisted Jack to his feet, holding his arm as if Jack were going to bolt out the door. For a second Atlas just looked at him, disappointment in his eyes that made Jack’s heart ache with guilt. _He’s sure to hate me now,_ Jack thought.

“Are you Ryan’s son?” Atlas finally asked him. Everyone else in the room watched them, but the only one Jack paid any attention to was Atlas.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “But I’m not working for him. He didn’t know I was here.”

“A likely story,” Carter interjected. “How are we supposed to take your word for anything now? What else would the fucking heir to Ryan Industries be doing here if not feeding our plans to Ryan? How else would he know where we’d be today?” As he spoke, Carter gripped Jack’s arm even harder, causing the young man to squirm.

“I swear, I never told him anything!” Jack insisted. “I didn’t know he’d be in Arcadia today. I’ve hardly spoken to him for a month.”

“Why did you come here then? Why start working with us?” Atlas insisted, a hard edge in his voice.

“I heard you speaking a few weeks ago,” Jack said, turning to Atlas. “At the last rally. Believe it or not, Ryan’s not the best father. Just because I’m his son doesn’t mean I agree with his politics. Everything you said that day made so much sense, and I thought I could help you. I wanted to do something _good_ for people,” he continued earnestly.

“Be that as it may,” Anna interjected from where she sat at a desk across the room, “the rally ended in bloodshed because of him.” Her voice was quiet and even, which was somehow even more unsettling than if she’d been screaming. “The riot wouldn’t have started if Ryan hadn’t found him. It’s _his_ fault Henry is dead.”

“Anna, I know how you’re feelin’ right now, but this isn’t Jack’s fault,” Atlas said, trying to reason with her.

Anna stood up from the desk and crossed the room, approaching Atlas until the two were face to face. “Do I seem hysterical to you? Do I seem like I don’t know what I’m talking about?” she asked, her voice still completely calm. “Don’t let your love for the boy cloud your judgment. He’s a liability.”

“No telling what he could pass on to Ryan and his goons,” Carter added.

Atlas just sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. He looked exhausted, even though it was only the afternoon. Jack met his eyes, his heart aching for all the pain he’d caused the man he admired so much. “I’m sorry,” Jack said sincerely.

Carter scoffed. “I’ll deal with him, since you won’t,” the man said, pulling Jack toward the door. Panic coursed through Jack’s veins, and he looked helplessly at Atlas, who lunged toward Carter.

“No,” Atlas said. “I won’t have you hurt him. He’s done good work for us.”

“It’s all been a front, Atlas,” Alexander reminded the man.

“No it hasn’t!” Jack insisted, his fear growing. If Carter had his way, he’d probably throw Jack headfirst down the concrete staircase. “Please, believe me.” His voice grew louder as he addressed the room, pleading his case. “I know what this looks like, but I _genuinely_ believe in this cause, and I want to help you. Ryan is leading this city to ruin, the policies the Council’s planning to initiate aren’t sustainable. That man has made my life hell for nineteen years, so when I heard Atlas speaking that day, it was like someone had the answers for every question and doubt I’d ever had. And, okay, lying about who I am was the wrong way to go about things, but I swear to you, I had no malicious intentions. I’m just…some stupid kid who was trying his best. And—” he looked at Anna “—I’m _sorry_ about all the trouble I’ve caused. I know an apology can’t make it better, but I don’t know what else I can do.” The sincerity of Jack’s words had affected some of those present, but Jack watched Atlas closest of all. The older man still seemed distressed; after always seeing him so composed and in control, this was a startling change for Jack.

Brenda was the first to break the silence. “What do you know of the Council’s plans?”

“I’ve sat in on a few of their meetings,” Jack explained. That piqued people’s interest: the Rapture Council meetings were closed to non-members, and though the Council was supposed to represent the working-class, the elite’s voices were always the most heeded. “New research, mostly. Something to do with one of Fontaine’s new ventures—‘plasmids,’ they’re called. Everyone’s making a big stir about them, and a drug or something called ADAM.”

Jack told them everything he could remember; plasmids, ADAM, those two spooky foreign doctors, the little girls and their protectors… Most people had heard rumors by now, but hearing the projects confirmed was shocking. While he spoke, Carter had cut him off, asking Atlas if he wanted to make this a private conversation.

“No,” Atlas had replied. “No more secrets. Besides, this doesn’t seem like somethin’ they can keep a lid on for long.” Carter had released him, and Jack stood freely in the middle of the room as he finished his report, answering people’s questions about the unbelievable story.

“This is all good to know,” Alexander cut in a while later, addressing Atlas and Carter, “but it doesn’t answer what we’re supposed to do with the kid.”

Atlas was silent at that, obviously still at a loss. Anna was the one to speak up first. “Keep him here. 24-hour surveillance, make sure he has no chance to talk to any of his father’s people,” she suggested. Jack offered her a smile, grateful for the measure of forgiveness she was showing him. She just glared at him, still not ready to be friendly as before.

“That’s a good idea,” Atlas nodded. The others agreed, and Carter and Alexander offered to go to Jack’s apartment and get him extra clothes and toiletries. Jack handed over the key, knowing full well that while they were there, the men would search his place for evidence that he’d betrayed the group to Ryan. Jack worried more about them leaving his apartment in disarray; there was nothing to be found, but the two obviously didn’t care for him much.

More people left, going home to see their families. Brenda convinced Anna to stay with her for the night. Carter and Alexander returned, throwing a bag onto a desk, then left after Atlas assured them he had everything under control. The pair glared at Jack before leaving. Soon Atlas and Jack were alone. The tension in the room was stifling.

Atlas sank down into one of the desk chairs, barred from the sofa since it was stained with Henry’s blood. “I really am sorry,” Jack whispered, keeping his distance and trying to gauge how the other man was feeling.

“I know ya are, boyo,” Atlas sighed. “This is all just… It’s been a busy day. And we’ll be busier soon, what with this plasmid business.” He rubbed his hands over his face, exhausted.

“Does this 24-hour surveillance thing include keeping me tied up?” Jack asked hesitantly. There were still marks on his wrists from where Alexander had tied the rope.

Atlas chuckled a little at that. “No. Unless you give me reason to think you’re gonna go runnin’ off to your dad.”

“I won’t,” Jack assured him, hazarding a smile. “I’m going to go fix us something to eat,” he said, getting up and heading for the closet-sized kitchen area.

“Good luck. That kitchen’s pretty bare,” Atlas called after him.

Jack was by no means a great cook, but he managed to make the two of them some pasta. When he brought the two bowls out to the main room, Atlas was still sitting at the same desk, staring into space with some notes scrawled down on a scrap of paper in front of him. He looked up when Jack entered and smiled appreciatively. “Thanks,” he said, taking one of the bowls from Jack.

They ate in silence. Jack, for his part, thought it would be irreverent of him to make idle conversation; he waited for Atlas’ cue, but that didn’t seem to be forthcoming. He washed their dishes when they’d finished eating, taking his time to avoid sitting in silence with the man he’d disappointed so much. Jack was surprised when Atlas joined him in the kitchen, and hoped the man would somehow put an end to the tension that now existed between them.

“I told you I worked in the Fisheries, didn’t I?” Atlas began, leaning up against the counter.

“Yes,” Jack said, looking up briefly.

“I just remembered. One day, Ryan came down to the docks, on one o’ those tours he used to take o’ the city. He talked with folks, played the ‘man of the people’ card. And he had this little kid with him, no more than six years old,” Atlas continued, smiling. “And Ryan was talking to a few guys I knew, but I was watchin’ this kid. He got hold of a fish, a minnow or somethin’ what had squirmed out of a barrel, and he kept sayin’ ‘Dad, dad, look!’ but Ryan weren’t payin’ him no attention. So the kid takes the fish and he throws it right at Ryan, hits him square in the back. Christ, his suit had this huge wet stain on it,” Atlas chuckled, remembering.

Jack couldn’t help but smile. Now that Atlas was relating the story, he could almost remember it. “I’m sure I got some kind of punishment for that,” he laughed. He continued drying the dishes, but he could feel Atlas’ eyes on him.

“You really care about the work we do, don’t you?” Atlas asked quietly.

Jack set the dishtowel down, finished with his work. “Yes. I was as honest as I could be with you,” he said sincerely. “But…I want to tell you something else. Another reason I lied to you. When I heard you talking, I…” Jack sighed, screwing his courage to the sticking place and looking Atlas in the eye. _No more secrets_. “I fell in love with you that day. And I figured you’d never give me the time of day if you knew I was Jack Ryan.”

Atlas just stared at him for a second, processing Jack’s words. “You’re in love with me?” he finally asked. Jack just nodded, feeling sick with anticipation. Atlas exhaled deeply, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not a stiff competition, but that’s certainly the best news I’ve heard all day,” he said, beaming at Jack. It was now Jack’s turn to be surprised, and he just stared at Atlas, waiting for a more definitive response. “I love you too,” Atlas clarified gently, seeing Jack’s hesitation.

Jack’s heart skipped a beat, and he hardly dared to believe his ears. “Even after all that? All the trouble I caused you?” he asked timidly. _He’s got every reason to hate me. I’m the son of his worst enemy._

“That’s what made it so difficult for me to believe you were some sort o’ double agent,” Atlas explained. “And if you _are_ , you’re being very thorough about it,” he added.

“I’m not. I told you, I just want to help—” Jack began to defend himself, but Atlas silenced him by taking his hand tenderly.

“I was only joking, Jacky boy,” he explained before leaning in and kissing Jack softly.

Jack’s heart pounded in his chest, and he tried to remember every detail of the kiss. Atlas’ lips were rough but warm, and he was surprisingly tender. Feeling Atlas pulling away, Jack laid his hand on the other man’s shoulder, bringing the two of them closer and kissing him again. Eventually the two separated, and Jack looked at Atlas with an expression of mingled bashfulness and bliss, not moving away from the embrace.

“The others are going to be angry,” Jack pointed out, thinking of Carter’s reaction above all. They all considered him a traitor and a spy, and wouldn’t take kindly to a relationship between him and their leader. _Maybe we should keep it a secret,_ Jack thought. He instantly felt ashamed, and didn’t bother bringing up the idea to Atlas. Keeping secrets had gotten him into this mess, and doing it again would only exacerbate it.

“Yeah, they will. But they’ll get over it,” Atlas said confidently. “I know you didn’t come here to betray us to your dad. If I can forgive you, they can too. I won’t let them lay a hand on you,” Atlas assured him.

Jack laid his head on Atlas’ shoulder, sighing happily. “Thank you. For everything.”

Atlas returned the embrace. “No trouble at all, boyo.”


End file.
